


Lightning Crashes

by 100yardstare



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Grimmel and Kelda's relationship is an example of a toxic one lol, Like...Grimmel is not a good person, Mild Language, POV Third Person, Prequel, Rating May Change, Rivalry, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100yardstare/pseuds/100yardstare
Summary: The life of a Dragon Hunter is filled with grit and violence. When hunters are fighting for bounties to stay alive, only the most skilled in the trade ascend the ranks and become a success.  Desperation hits the hunter population as Kelda, a new and rising Huntress, is sent on behalf of her aging guild to collect the bounty for a Skrill dragon. However, another hunter is already on the Skrill’s trail: none other than recently famed Grimmel the Grisly. A fight to prove her worth instead takes Kelda on a journey beyond her imagination and the only life she has ever known, and brings Grimmel further down his path of destruction.✧Will go into a lot of backstory for Grimmel. There will also be frequent mentions of other characters/cameos later on, such as Eret, Valka, Drago, and mentions of the Grimborn family...etc. Kelda is my OC but if you want to also imagine yourself in her shoes that's great too!
Relationships: Deathgripper Dragons (How to Train Your Dragon) & Grimmel the Grisly, Grimmel the Grisly/Original Female Character(s), Grimmel the Grisly/Reader, Skrill Dragons (How to Train Your Dragon) & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 13





	1. Of Hunters and Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! Thanks for clicking on my fic. This story will be a PREQUEL to the HTTYD movies, and is set back many, many years before movie events as it begins. This fic is rated T for language and depictions of death, however, please know I will not EVER kill off canon characters. My goal is to fit this prequel fic as close to canon material as possible so that it does not mess with the original HTTYD storyline, but adds to it. Lots of angst!
> 
> Enjoy!

_The scream._

It wasn't an ordinary scream. Not the ones that emit from a humans breath, but that of a dragons. The sound had a roaring pound to it, such as that of a powerful, towering beast that had finally been brought to its knees. The huntress, Kelda, saw its eyes behind the chains; its wings, and large body, hunkered and tied down onto the mud with no hope of lifting into the heavens to see a flight of freedom again, and yet whose will to escape, and live, kept it from remaining still.

A large group of hunters surrounded the creature; a Rumblehorn whose scales managed to pick up what sunlight broke through the cloudy, misty skies, sent a reflection into their vision, giving off a green hue. Kelda's arm held up her weapon, the bow and arrow aimed at the dragon, and her guild mates followed suit, each ready to land the strike if they were called to do it.

"Finally. I thought he'd never run into our trap," one of the younger boys out of the group of hunters spoke up, emitting a tone of relief and excitement. "I'll take this one out."

"No… Kelda was the one who set the trap and tracked the dragon. She should be the one to end it here." An older man, whose beard had grown long onto his chest, and had turned completely grey, responded. "Know your place, boy," he said.

Kelda's grip on her bow tightened, a quake of anxiety flowing through her arm's muscles, wobbling her arrows straight potential path for a brief second. She had a feeling the elder hunter, Ulf, would say that. He had been encouraging her for so long now to take the last kill in their hunts, not necessarily because of her contribution like he made it out to be, but due to her rising status in the guild. 

For now, she stayed silent, contemplating the suggestion.

As she peered down the arrow, past the carved and sturdy wood, and the sharp metal at its edge, the dragon looked up at her, panting. _It would be easy_ , she thought _. A quick and painless death_. She knew the dragon's anatomy—after all, she had studied all the known species for years. Each dragon had a point of least resistance, and that would be the place she'd aim. But despite her knowledge and ability, she couldn't let go of the arrow.

It was always like this. Kelda had killed a dragon before, many times throughout her twenty-one years. But as she aged, her disdain for the kill etched its way deeper into her mind, like that of a stake being struck further and further into the crack of a stone. It was when her gaze met that of the dragon’s—its eyes staring through her, and into her spirit—did she lower the bow.

"No," Kelda reiterated, the pit of her stomach turning, yet outwardly she held herself sturdy and tall, her dark amber eyes lowering to the ground. "Let the boy do it if he wishes. He's worked hard for a moment such as this." She felt her teeth clench as the last word left her lips. Her excuses—lies—whatever you may call them, came out so fluently that no one would have known the wiser. After all, she was Kelda, a rising hunter in her guild, known relatively well throughout the world of hunters. Her words were starting to become just as meaningful as Ulf's.

The boy lit up like a torch flame, his crossbow aiming at the creature first and foremost. Ulf would sigh, but he seemed to listen to Kelda's words carefully and without hesitation. "Let it be so then," Ulf said. "Go ahead, Sune. Take the kill."

Kelda wanted to turn around and walk away, but duty chained her down, much like the dragon before her. This was what dragon hunters did. _They killed dragons_. She had known nothing else but this kind of death, over and over again, day in and day out, like a book whose pages turned and yet would tell the same story. 

Her eyes looked up, just as the young boy pulled the trigger. It wouldn't happen fast like Kelda would have hoped. It was a messy, unclean kill, but it managed to do the job. She could hear the Rumblehorn exhale again, but instead of a terrified scream, it was a quiet breath. Stillness then encompassed the valley like a cold embrace, and Kelda held her tongue, and her feelings like she always did. There was no trace of emotion on her expression. _This was just how it was_ , she thought to herself. Like it always was, and always will be.

. . . . . . . . . .

"You know you didn't have to do that." Ulf spoke up to Kelda, who was contemplating a pitcher of ale. The environment of a busy hunter's hub was vastly different than the hunt in the wilderness. It was like the world shifted when you left the great valleys, seas, and mountains and back into the world of mankind. Even the wildness of Vikings couldn't compare to the natural world.

"Sune needed the chance to kill a dragon. He's been working hard, and you could see he wanted to do it," Kelda responded, her tone matter-of-fact in nature. "After all, he's at that age. It was time."

"I understand that," Ulf said, "but you are a valuable asset to our guild. A lot of us won't be able to make those trips for much longer. I'm growing old, and I need other members of this guild to take the reins soon. I see you being a valuable asset to the perseverance of our members in the future, so you should begin to take those status kills yourself."

"Don't be so sentimental, Ulf," Kelda chuckled halfheartedly. "I've had my share of killing dragons. I wouldn't be in a guild if I wasn't preparing to share the prey."

"You are always a woman of modesty, Kelda." Ulf nodded, then said, "For now let us enjoy ourselves, as I have important news to share with the others." The old man sat up, taking his large war hammer that hung on his hip, and landed it hard on the table. The stirring Vikings around the hub quieted down subtly at first, but then managed to be still once they saw Ulf had taken a stand to gain their attention. Kelda kept her head low, but extended her ear, as he was right next to her. "Listen you lot, I have something to ask of you!" Ulf yelled.

Kelda looked outward onto the group of guild mates surrounding her, compromising of no more than twenty or so individuals. There were many of those turning grey, with only a handful of them strong enough to continue hunting. The remaining few were children—boys no younger than 8 years, and no older than 14. To be honest, it didn't surprise Kelda that they were struggling. Competition had grown tough in the lives of hunters, only the most skilled and seasoned in the trade having claim to the best jobs. On top of that, the dragons were becoming more elusive, scattering themselves about the continent to avoid humans. And yet, not one here alive, let alone Ulf's guild, were about to give up on their profession. A Vikings best quality could be said to be stubbornness, but these weren't just Vikings, they were hunters, and hunters were both stubborn, _and_ patient.

"I have a need—no— _we_ have a need for a vote to be cast! I have received a lead of a potential hunt!" Ulf called out. The small guild erupted into a hustled cheer, but silenced themselves after a brief moment. "However, as much as I would wish for all of us to go, many of us cannot make the trip, and with quests scarce as they have become, I sadly must recommend we do not put all our eggs in one basket. We need those who can go out on hunts do so alone, as we don't know how thin we can stretch ourselves to catch potential bounties."

The crowed seemed to understand, as reluctant as they wished to not believe it. It was for the best to spread out hunters to leads, as to keep some there just in case another job arose while the other was out.

"This hunt will be against a Skrill dragon. They are known to be quick and dangerous creatures, so I suggest one of our more fluent and physically able hunters take the leap."

"I say Frode!" someone in the back yelled.

"No, Trygve is capable, and needs the opportunity! Send him!" another argued.

Kelda kept to herself in the scramble. She didn't care to participate in the constant bickering, not necessarily because it was of annoyance, but once she started going off, who knew when she'd stop. It was best to just listen. If she were to have her way anyway, it would be Ulf himself. He was the strongest and wisest in the guild, but due to his self-induced status as leader of this particular sect, so to speak, he'd be needed here with the others.

"Nay, I suggest we send Kelda," a frail, and aging hunter in the front said, standing up and looking toward the young woman sitting next to Ulf. A sort of hushed agreement seemed to ripple over the other hunters, and Ulf himself would grin widely and proudly, taking one of his large hands and swatting it on Kelda's back in one quick whip. Kelda felt the air fly out of her lungs as her eyes widened, both from shock of the strike and from hearing her name suggested.

"YES!" Ulf yelled. "I agree! Kelda is capable, and is our finest tracker. The Skrill are as smart as they are strong, so she is the perfect hunter to be sent on the guilds behalf!"

"Oh, I couldn't _possibly_ …" Kelda said, but the group had already been stirred, and the excitement had already set in. She suddenly found the hand that had landed flat on her back had grabbed the back collar of her armor, and lifted her to her feet, which only caused the already massive wave of cheers to get even louder. For a moment she stood there on her own, not being able to speak. After all, there really wasn't a whole lot she could do to disagree in front of the entirety of the guild, but she did consider sitting down after this was all said and done to perhaps convince Ulf to reconsider.

"Kelda shall collect the bounty for the Skrill dragon!" Ulf claimed loudly, sending celebration outward to the rest of the guild. Applause engulfed the small section of the hunter's port, for a brief moment ridding its rigidity and staleness with that of actual human cheer.

"Oh Gods…" Kelda whispered to herself quietly. There was a lot that was just placed on her shoulders. "Umm, Ulf, can I speak to you a minute… alone?" She could feel her heart sinking deeper into her chest cavity as if a massive whirlpool had somehow gotten in there.

"Sure thing, lass!" Ulf exclaimed happily, and turned toward the guild one more time. "I must excuse myself and Kelda. We have important business to speak of!" He took his large hand and hit her back again, but this time Kelda didn't seem upset, since her back was already numb from the last hit. The two would make their way past the boundaries of the hunter's hub and towards the docks, where the ocean water rolled gently, and sparkled with the moonlight, and the hint of embers from flames among the torches nearby created warmth among them.

"Look, Ulf…" Kelda turned toward the aging hunter. "I know you have a lot of trust in me, and believe me to be good at what I do, but it's been… well, _a while_ since I've actually been on a hunt alone." She wasn't lying, of course. Unlike other hunters, the guild was very tightknit and spent all their hunts in groups. The unspoken motto between the lot of them was that the best predators worked together.

"Oh Kelda, Kelda." Ulf smiled, and said, "I swear you are too modest for your own good. You do realize that you are great at what you do, right? I wouldn't trust you as much as I do if I didn't believe in your capabilities."

"It's not that I'm not sure of myself. I _know_ I can do this."

"Then why do you act so hesitant? If I were to send someone like Sune, he'd be ecstatic for the opportunity! But here you are, a great huntress, and yet you do not seem happy about proving yourself?"

Kelda let her head fall slightly, her eyes turning toward the ground. By all means, this opportunity was wonderful for her. She could finally go off on her own without the help of her team, and potentially build a solo career for herself. She might not be renowned in the trade as of yet, but she _could_ be.

"You have greatness in you, Kelda, you must accept this bounty." Ulf would chuckle heartily, but then grow a bit serious as a new thought seemed to pass his mind. "After all, you have no choice! What do you think the other members would think? When I raised you like you were my own daughter, I didn't put in the effort to watch you grow into a cunning, capable young woman who hesitates due to modesty."

"I know." Kelda tried to muster a smile. "I will try to do what is right by the guild."

"You will set out by dawn then. It should take you about a day's trip by ship to reach the village. Be prepared for anything."

Kelda nodded. Of course she was prepared for everything, so a warning of doing so was the least of her concerns. It was perhaps, more frankly, that she felt she knew _exactly_ what would happen that made her the most uncomfortable. But despite this, she continued to hide her discomfort well. In the end, what kind of hunter was she if she couldn't kill again? If she was ever going to become anything of worth in the trade, she'd have to do what the trade commanded of her: to do her job, and to do it right, and without hesitation.


	2. Grimmel's Wager

The hunter port's hustle and clamber had slowly but surely become consumed and replaced by the vastness of the sea, and for already almost a day's journey behind her, Kelda sat in the moment to revel in the gentle ocean waves that carried the ship she was boarded upon. Around her were a few members of the trades, with them carrying a variety of trinkets, eateries, and books in hopes to reach new buyers at the oncoming destination. But while the roamers and salesmen hoarded their treasures in hopes of trade for coin, reaching into her bags, Kelda took out a small loaf of bread that had been prepared before dawn that morning when she had left. Beyond her trusty bow and arrows, the armor on her body, a dagger at her belt, and the knowledge she carried as a hunter, the loaf was entirely what she brought with her from the port. She was set on filling up before the ship reached landfall, for there was no time to waste when it came to proceeding with her quest.

While she didn't want to admit it though, everyone on this boat, herself as a hunter included, and the many tradesmen around her, were all traveling for coin.

In the end it's always about the coin. Coin equaled survival; survival equaled perseverance; perseverance meant the guild would thrive.

She eyed the delicious, gold crusted bread for a moment before she took a bite, reveling in its taste as she chewed. Putting herself in the moment like this—the calm before the storm—always cleared her head. She didn't know much about the village and the surrounding land she was going to, but still her mind raced with different tactics and plans on how to immediately begin the hunt. For example, if the terrain was snow filled, she would need to be stealthier when navigating the ice covered ground. If the land was windy, staying downwind of the prey was priority, as a dragon's sense of smell was much more precise than a humans, and of course, being upwind was always a hunters advantage.

"Ah, after the Skrill I presume?" an old woman said from within the ship cabins near her. Kelda swallowed her food and then turned around to see who was talking to her. The old lady stayed in the shade of the bunker while she continued, "I can tell. Hunters tend to be most prepared with the least of items."

"Yeah, I suppose," Kelda responded. "You off to sell your trinkets, and odd ends?"

The old woman responded with a smile, "That sort of thing." She paused for a moment before saying, "Would you like to see?"

"I'll pass," said Kelda. "Like you say, hunters need to pack lightly." She was about to turn back away from the old woman to resume her dinner, but the old woman continued to talk.

"How are you going to manage to kill a Skrill? Not that I doubt your expertise, but I am genuinely curious. How does a hunter stand alone to a dragon?" She sighed, then said, "I am old and frail, and dragon hunting is one thing I've never seen done, at least not in person. Someone else usually took care of those things."

"Stubbornness and patience," Kelda replied flatly.

"Oh yes, of course, but that's not what I'm asking." The old lady stepped out from the cabin for a moment and into the sunlight. She had little whiskers on her chin that caught the sun's rays. "How is it done? How does an arrow kill a beast, when in comparison to a man's weapon, a dragon is so much more powerful?" She gestured to the arrows on Kelda's back.

"Seems that way, to doubt its possibility," Kelda agreed, but at that point the agreeableness stopped. Kelda could have explained the intricacies to it all; how when creating a weapon, only the most skilled of foragers could create the blade or arrow that would be enough to pierce a dragon; that there was so much more to it all than the simple act of a clash between man-made and scales. "The only way is to know your prey," Kelda would continue. "Once you know their weakness, it's easy to find the path of least resistance."

"And where is the path of least resistance?"

"If I told you I'd be giving away a hunter’s secret, wouldn't I?"

The old woman chuckled a bit, and echoed her statement. "I was just teasing. I don't expect a hunter to give away her secrets."

Kelda looked at the old lady nonchalantly, and turned away, immediately taking another bite of her bread to avoid the conversation from continuing. People always liked to ask how the killing was done, but Kelda knew better than to tell. It had been passed down the guild's ranks for generations. That was what made them successful. Every hunter had their own way of doing things, whether it was careful study, cunning, or use of large weaponry and strength.

But sometimes that knowledge was a bit too much to burden oneself with, especially Kelda, who tried to bury her thoughts in the ocean ahead of her, and the sweet smell of her food in her hand. If the sun heading westward, and the changing of clear skies to clouds didn't indicate it, then her gut feeling told her she would be at her destination soon.

Once that happened, there would be no time to rest.

. . . . . . .

If there was one thing Kelda enjoyed about being alone, it was the fact she felt more freedom to do things her own way. While it was comforting in the sense that she had her guild behind her back in most hunts, nothing quite compared to that feeling of isolation out in the wild.

But this time, that feeling of freedom was merely an illusion. While she stood alone among the trees, whose whispers moved with that of the winds ever changing direction, Kelda felt she might as well have a chain on her foot. Her mind was constantly moving from the present hunt, and back to Ulf and the guild. Either do the job, or come home a failure. There really wasn't another alternative to the situation as far as Kelda saw it.

Kelda would stop, and scan the landscape before her. She could taste the salt in the air from the ocean, taking notice also of the weather; with the winds shifting the way it was, and the clouds becoming darker as time rolled on, it was only a matter of time before a storm would begin.

After a few moments of her gaze staring outward, her eyes caught a glimpse of a tree whose trunk had been torn to shreds. Unlike that of a deer or anything of its likeness that may have used the tree to scrape its antlers, this shredding was large, and erratic, as if a struggle of some kind had taken place. The trail of these shreds seemed to lift into the skies, as if the creature had taken off, bombarding through the wood and quickly upward. No doubt it was from the dragon, but what caused it to do this was beyond the huntress.

Kelda began to walk the direction that the bark and branches had been destroyed; this ultimately led her beyond the forests edge and to the edge of a cliff, where the roar of ocean waves began to manifest itself in the air, joining that of the already existing lullaby of the wind and trees.

Kelda would allow herself to sigh, releasing what felt like a mound of bundled energy within herself that she couldn't seem to let go of. _Get over yourself_ , she would think coldly. _You've done this before, you can do it again._ Shutting her eyes, she allowed the songs of the world among her, and the slightly chilled embrace of the wind flow around her slim figure, and through her long dark hair. The gentleness, sadly, was shattered when the sound of another scream engulfed her senses. She recognized that kind of scream anywhere—it was the sound of a distressed dragon.

Her heart leapt as her blood began to flow through her body, adrenaline being pumped through her limbs so quickly that her body began to move into a silent sprint as she moved toward the direction of the sound. Past the forest and beyond the cliff side, however, she would quickly find the dragon. Down below, buried partially in the wet sand, and trapped under the constant pulse of tall blue and white foamy ocean waves, was the dragon. Kelda's legs halted immediately as she hunkered down, taking notice that the dragon had not seen her approach. Kelda grew a perplexed expression as she observed the creature—it wasn't moving very much, and wasn't even making an attempt to fly away. The waves were obviously contributing to its defenseless state, but as she looked closer, she could see that the dragon's body was covered in what looked like the nettings of a dragon trap.

" _Shit_ …" Kelda hissed to herself. Either the neighboring Vikings of this land had already taken it upon themselves to take care of the Skrill, or another hunter was here, the former being unlikely, as the village had been actively seeking help for this. If this was indeed another hunter's doing, then… well, they certainly were missing out on an opportunity.

Kelda readied her bow, and began towards the beach and the captive Skrill, slowly at first, but more paced as she grew closer. She only stopped once her feet hit the ocean, and took a closer look at the dragon.

The Skrill was large and full grown, its appearance taking on the typical pattern of blacks, greys and purples that were common of the species. From the looks of it, the dragon hadn't been in the trap for long, but being submerged in the water the way it was was just enough to render it completely helpless.

Ulf's voice seemed to claw back into Kelda's thoughts, then, pushing her to make another move. One of her arms lifted the bow, and with her other she pulled back the tight bowstring, peering down the arrow. It was a brief thought: she could kill the dragon, and claim the kill as her own. Nobody was here to claim the beast, and she wasn't considering waiting around to see who would show up. She could take the bounty, and return to the guild successful, and be at one more step forward to becoming a successful hunter.

"I want this," Kelda mutter softly to herself, her voice so quiet it was instantly drowned out by the waves. Despite her readied bow aimed at the dragon, her muscles tensed again, and a wave of emotion crashed over her. Peering down the arrow reminded her so vividly of the many other kills she had already done in the past, each time more difficult than the last. While those of her guild, and even other Vikings would cheer for her, encourage her—honor her even— _why?_

 _Why can't I do this?_ Kelda ached inside. Her wobbled arms forced her to lower her weapon. Was it the violence of the act that made her hesitate? No…that was part of it, but not the main reason. Maybe she was just a coward, but then again, cowards don't have a headcount.

The dragon would shift in its downed position, its head moving slightly towards the shore and towards Kelda. The waves had moved around its face, the tides rising ever so slightly where it began to cover its chin and nose, briefly smothering it. Over time, if Kelda didn't kill it then and there, the ocean would eventually suffocate it. Opening its eyes, the Skrill would reveal its state of dread within them. Kelda felt the pit of her stomach turn again… the empathy she felt was so great that instead of seeing a frightening, dangerous beast, she saw a soul, chained and worn down, with fear of its life.

Kelda's gaze darted around the trap. She knew its kind well—it would be easy to disassemble it. The locks were tough, but they had a certain way about them that when tampered with just right, they would release.

"I can't believe I'm doing this…" Kelda mumbled to herself. She would quickly place her weapon stationary around her back, and reach into her pocket to grab a large lock pick, and begin her stride through the waves until she was next to the dragon. Getting there was one thing, but staying there, however, was another. The water was nearly waist deep, and with the waves constantly crashing over them, the act of unlocking the trap wouldn't be an easy task.

Kelda found herself holding on as tightly as she could to the trap, her skin brushing up against the dragon’s, causing a growl to escape the throat of the creature. "Hey… don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," Kelda said, her voice soft and sincere. "I'm going to pick this lock and get you out of here."

The dragon didn't seem to struggle, but it kept its eyes peering up at the young woman. With the dragon not presenting any immediate threat, Kelda quickly got to work, picking at the lock between the push and pull of the waves, and keeping her body steady as to not be dragged down into the ocean. Her concentration was heavily placed on the lock the entire time, and eventually, she would hear the usual click of the trap breaking. Without thinking, Kelda released the trap.

What happened next occurred so quickly that at first Kelda didn't even feel the pain. The dragon, realizing the pressure of the trap was relieved from its body, put all its might into standing up, and began to thrash in the water. The wings of the dragon lifted, and the might of the Skrill began to spiral around, and towards the shore. The fast motion and expansion of its wings caused it to slash through Kelda's armor with one of its sharp spikes, and across her right shoulder, slightly passed her collarbone above her breast. The shock and power from the strike caused the huntress to fall backward, submerging her into the water.

From beneath the waves, her wide eyes burning in the saltwater, watched as the dragons feet stirred up the sand, and then leave the ocean. The second she caught footing, Kelda broke away from the waves, rising above the water drenched and bleeding out of her fresh wound, slowly but steadily. But, her eyes remained upward, captivated by the strength of the creature. Its ferocity, as its mighty violet wings carried it higher, and higher into the skies, brought a sense of awe into Kelda's heart. The dragon ultimately flew beyond the horizon of the trees, and upward towards the sturdy stones of the cliffs.

. . . . . . . . . .

She sure didn't feel it then, but boy was she feeling it now.

Kelda had made her way to the nearby village, dirty, tired, hungry, and in pain. Her hand had remained glued to the upper left portion of her chest, causing her arm to become stained in blood. Passing from the wilderness and back into Viking society was certainly a drastic change in Kelda's perception, but it was a predictable one. Like many of the other hubs and villages she had visited, seeing someone bleeding out wasn't necessarily a big deal. A few passersby's looked her way, but to most it was just another thing. Kelda certainly didn't want attention anyway.

Kelda made her way into a Vikings hall, currently void of any feasts and parties, but a few mingling drunks in the upper corners of the building had established themselves with laughter and haughtiness, speaking of who was the strongest when it came to arm wrestling. Honestly though, Kelda didn't pay much mind to them. She was only concerned about treating her wound.

"Where is the damn ale," Kelda spat out, her expression anything but happy. She reached for a pitcher and smelled the liquid inside; the scent of alcohol immediately filled her nostrils, causing her to recoil. "Ugh, that'll do," she said.

She took a seat, setting the pitcher at the table in front of her, and began to untie the laces that secured her upper armor. The leather-like torso piece had a diagonal slice directly across it, giving her a good idea of what the slice on her actual skin would look like. It was about time for her to upgrade her armor anyway, but that would have to wait. Once the piece was untied, she was greeted to the realization that her white undershirt was completely dyed red.

" _Seriously?_ Lesson learned: screw white shirts." Kelda's eyebrows furrowed with frustration, but she continued on doing what she needed to do. She slightly untied the front of her shirt, revealing the wound. It wasn't too deep, so it's not like she'd die from this. It was merely a surface wound, and would most likely scar up and heal. Kelda considered herself lucky that the majority of the impact was absorbed by her armor.

 _I've had worse_ , she thought. Kelda then reached towards the table, and grabbed a dry cloth that happened to be sitting there, and with the other hand grabbed the pitcher of ale she had picked up. Kelda took a deep breath, and then released it as a sigh, closing her eyes tightly for a second and then opening them to reveal a serious, but determined expression. She would proceed to pour the ale over her wound.

Her face became crooked as she held back a yell, her face turning red and her teeth clenching silently behind her lips. Even after the ale had stopped flowing over the wound, it took a moment for her expression to settle. Taking the cloth, she'd press it up against the cut, her eyes squinting briefly before she got used to the pressure.

For a moment she took the opportunity to monitor her surroundings. The Vikings in their corner were still merrily unaware of her presence, which was perfectly fine, and overall the hall was quite pleasant, minus the sudden erupting laughter and yelling throughout the drunk's conversations. If all went well, and if she was lucky, perhaps she hadn't missed dinner, and someone would cook something up. Afterwards she'd find somewhere to pass out and rest off the nasty pain, and from there figure out what she was going to do.

Oh Thor… what _was_ she going to do? She came here to kill the Skrill, not to _let it free_ from someone else's trap. This entire situation had turned into a huge mess, and it was reflected upon her person quite eloquently.

At the corner of Kelda's eye, she saw someone at the opposite corner of the hall shift in their seat, just beyond the fireplace's light to where his features were hidden quite well. Kelda felt a bit off that she didn't notice him when she walked in, but she considered one extra person to not be a big deal. Her eyes shifted again, looking ahead of her and across the table, staring bluntly at the walls, and letting time pass. Hopefully she could take the pressure off her wound soon, or if that wasn't possible, at least get the desire to stand up and find something to tie herself down with.

The corner of her eye caught a glimpse of the man sitting in the corner again; he had stood up. _Leaving hopefully,_ Kelda thought to herself irritably. He seemed more observant than the drunks, which she wasn't really happy about, so that concluded that he probably noticed her coming in looking like a disaster. She gave a benefit of a doubt and shifted her eyes yet again toward the wall, attempting to listen in on the drunks. However, this didn't work, as she kept being hyper aware that the stranger was now _walking up to her._

Uncomfortably, but keeping her wits about her, she sensed the man had sat next to her. She could feel his eyes on her.

"Look, literally nobody cares," Kelda spat out, avoiding eye contact and peering at the wall for direction.

"Ah, you must be a hunter…" the man responded, his voice taking on a strange yet alluring accent.

"Is it obvious?" Kelda responded sarcastically.

"Yes it is…" The man trailed off for a moment, said, "can I find you another drink? Preferably one you won't throw on your chest to disinfect a wound."

"I'm fine." Kelda was pretty sturdy in her seat, not moving her focus from the wall. "If you don't mind I'd like to sit here in peace."

"Oh, come on now, it's not often I find myself in the presence of another dragon hunter. Well, I prefer to refer to myself as an artist, so to speak, but we are kin in our profession, nonetheless."

Kelda's gaze finally broke from the wall, and she turned her head, her focus perching on the hunter beside her. The guy was a bit older than her— a handful of years at the very least, perhaps somewhere around twenty-eight to thirty years, she guessed. He wore black leather armor which seemed to clash with his pale complexion. His hair was messy and a much darker shade of brown than her own, and his face was long and drawn out, making him unique in appearance but still somehow attractive. What stood out, though, were his icy, pale blue eyes that peered back at her.

"I'm terribly sorry, you must excuse my manners," he said. "I am Grimmel. You may recognize my name as Grimmel the Grisly, although I don't necessarily like to boast." A sly grin would escape his lips, obviously expressing pride in his title despite his suggestion otherwise.

Kelda's amber eyes widened. The name struck her like a stone, and at first she didn't really know what to say. Was she really in the presence of Grimmel the Grisly? The prodigious dragon hunter that had climbed the ranks of the profession from such a young age, that his name had already become synonymous with both success and renown?

"You're _Grimmel the Grisly_? _"_ Kelda repeated, as if simply hearing it didn't quite put into perspective who she was sitting next too. "I don't—I don't really know what to say. I knew you weren't that young, but already prodigy at your age? Hunters all over the world know who you are." She couldn't help but feel a bit overshadowed.

"Yes, I know." Grimmel kept his smug smile on his face, his pride at first merely being flashed, but now he was drenching in it.

"I'm Kelda. Although I can't say I have a fancy title like yours," Kelda responded back. "At this rate I don't know if I ever will."

"Lovely and modest, I see," Grimmel commented, which slightly caught Kelda off guard. "What brings you here to this poor unfortunate island?"

 _Why would he ask about me?_ Kelda wondered. She couldn't help but feel a bit special, not necessarily because of any type of status or personal accomplishments she had made, but because somehow Grimmel, being of high ranking status in hunter society, was actually wanting to know about _her_. "I was sent here by my guild," Kelda said. "There was a need for a Skrill to be taken care of, so I came here to collect the bounty."

"Oh, isn't that fun," Grimmel cooed. "Any luck on finding the beast?"

"Well, sort of." Kelda shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She thought immediately back to what had happened at the beach. She could have killed it already, but instead she let it go. What was she supposed to say now, especially to _Grimmel_? "I managed to track its location but it got away," she'd say, her eyes not breaking eye contact with Grimmel's, keeping her lies in tact like she always managed to do.

Grimmel shifted in his seat as well, leaning in closer but making himself more comfortable in the process as he placed one hand on the table beside him, and the other gently over his leg. On top of it all, he somehow made himself look larger; his broad shoulders but slender figure, even while sitting, towered over Kelda as if he was a shadow casting himself outward. She hadn't seen what Grimmel did for his career, but the term "grisly" seemed to fit him quite nicely.

"Silly girl…" Grimmel spoke softly, but his tone had just a twinge of venom to it. "If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you were a pretty good liar, you know."

Kelda felt her throat tighten, but she kept her illusion of toughness glued to her expression, not flinching, or moving away from both Grimmel's physical closeness and his obvious stab to her ego. If anything, she began to glare, harshly, as if she was sending electricity at him through her stare.

"I would have believed you if the evidence didn't say otherwise." His eyes shifted between Kelda's, not letting up on his attempt at intimidation. "You see, I've been here for a while. Earlier I was attempting to track a Skrill myself, and managed to shoot the beast down with my trap. It landed on a beach just to the east of this very village, and when I got there… I saw _you_."

Kelda's stone like expression didn't fade even then, but she felt all kinds of emotions building up inside her. Her mind was hollering all kinds of profanities at this point.

"We're done here," Kelda hissed. She stood up slowly, breaking eye contact at the last possible second before she turned around and began to walk. She only stopped when she heard Grimmel clear his throat, and then began to say something else.

"I see what must've been going through your mind. Here you are, arriving at this island in the hopes you'd bring glory to yourself and to your guild, only to find that another predator has already captured your prey. Instead of outright stealing the dragon and claiming the kill as your own, you let it free? For what reason?" Grimmel was attempting to read her, and what he already said was partially true. But the good thing was, _he didn't know_. He didn't realize that her freeing the dragon was simply an act of pity. Kelda realized she could turn the situation around for her own good; at least in a sense of keeping her status as a hunter intact.

"I let it go because it would have been unethical to steal another hunter's claim." Kelda turned around halfway to speak to the famed hunter. "It also would have been too easy. What kind of hunter would I be if I killed the dragon in another hunters trap?" She paused a moment, then said, "You're right. I tampered with your trap so I could find the Skrill on my own at a later time. You were too slow." Kelda smirked, turning her head to look at Grimmel. "Maybe you should be a bit faster next time?"

Grimmel chuckled darkly. He seemed to like what Kelda had said. "We should make a bet out of it then? Call it a game, if you will," Grimmel suggested. "Since you want this kill so badly, I will allow you a week to hunt down and take care of this dragon. If by that time you are unable to finish the hunt, the Skrill will be mine for the taking."

"Deal," Kelda responded. She didn't even have time to contemplate her words. She felt like she had no choice, for the sake of her career.

"That's what I thought," Grimmel asserted. "I look forward to seeing you again, one way or another."

The two stared at each other, just a moment longer, before Kelda tore away and strode out of the building. As she made her way outside, the sprinkle of a few stray raindrops fell onto her face. Looking up, and outward past the village, and into the ocean, she saw that both the vast sea, and equally grand skies matched each other in a dark, ominous grey.


	3. A Touch of Lightning

As much as Ulf was stern, he was very wise. It wasn't a wisdom that came with knowledge of books or stories, but of grit and experience. He carried himself as if death, time and time again, having shown itself and its many faces toward the old hunter, had made him cold. This wasn't uncommon for those who sought out the trade, and if anything, it made them better for it.

"A hunter keeps their wits about them," Ulf used to say, "and a hunter also has focus."

Kelda remembered she failed miserably at that— _focus_. As a hunter that meant she was supposed to keep an eye on the prize. The kill was always priority, not only because it put bread on the table, but it also brought honor. Once a mere child, a girl once of thirteen years, her mind was everywhere. The struggle of the dragon in its trap, the aching cries, the wind in her hair that could even push her small frame forward, as if she could allow its gust to knock her over easily like a weed among a rivers current, were all factors at a constant battle against her.

"Some hunters choose to trap their dragons; some choose to use stealth. Some choose to use drastic measures to make their kill, such as the use of large weapons, and ships. But while all of those are effective, there is always one quick way to kill a dragon."

"They are so big though, Ulf…" Kelda remember saying. She admired their stature; even their large scales tended to remind her how physically insignificant she was.

"My girl, only the greatest of hunters know their kills should be swift. With honor comes a clean slaughter. Over the years I have found there is a way to do it in such a way." Ulf had taken his pointer finger, gently placing it on Kelda's head, just a bit behind her eye, where her skull softened. Although his touch was gentle, the bit of pressure against the spot was uncomfortable.

Now, during her hunt alone for the Skrill, as Kelda walked upward against the mountain's slope, these memories, small in detail, but large in influence, made it to where she couldn't help but place her own finger against the spot Ulf had told her about those many years ago. At first she would do it hard, but after a few moments of the pressure setting upon the soft spot, she flinched. She had killed many dragons that way before, and she could do it again. It was merely the thought, as empathetic as she was to the creatures, which made her skin crawl.

 _So quick…so painless…_ she thought.

Kelda would come to a settling in the ground, where the mountain wouldn't climb as easily, and the trees stretched out into another forest. Kelda took the opportunity to look back, seeing she had made quite a bit of ground in the few hours she had started with. There was a mist hugging the sides of the cliff below her, but from where she stood, where the slope temporarily ended, and lead into another higher bundle of trees, she listened.

"Keep moving," Kelda muttered. Talking to herself helped force her to focus. She knew she couldn't climb the steep cliffs here, so she ventured into the wood, feeling the sky disappear as the shadows of the leaves high above created a canopy around her. She walked though this grove for a while, making sure to take it slow, but also becoming more and more aware of signs. They were very subtle, of course. The dragon was no longer trapped or in distress. It was in its natural habitat, after all. What instead made her aware that she was close to her target was what was happening to her own body, and the air shifting as she made every progressing step forward. The hairs on her body stuck up, and she could feel energy overcoming the air. It was like lightning had just struck the ground, but there were no thunderbolts to be seen.

Kelda turned a corner in a dense pack of trees, and stopped in her tracks. Her breath remained calm, but her eyes grew large as she saw it—the Skrill was here.

Unlike before, where a majority of its body was skewed by the crashing waves, she could see it more clearly. While not one of the largest dragon species, its wingspan was still breathtaking. The purple shades, even visible in the shadowed grove, mesmerized her. The Skrill made her think of a rose, if anything. It was visually breathtaking, but both the physical spikes on its body and the obvious ferocity it carried within made her not only admire its appearance, but respect it as a being.

Kelda shook her head. A hunter couldn't admire an animal, not in a way that valued its life. It was just another kill to add to the list, and another payment to keep the guild happy and going. She took her bow and arrow, and readied it before her.

Looking down the arrow, and lining the sharp blade at its tip to the spot Ulf had taught her about, she held her position, waiting for the creature to move into just the right spot before she released her shot.

It was there, an open kill, unaware of her presence, and yet she was doing it again. Her heart seemed to sink in her chest, as if her heart pounding her ribcage was it trying to tell her something.

 _"Shit…"_ she hissed to herself. She lowered the weapon, and let her body shift forward, ever so slightly. Regardless of her prior caution, this simple movement caused her stance to weigh down upon a twig, which would snap in almost an instant. The dragon looked up, directly in her direction the second the twig snapped. It saw her.

Now instead of an ache in her chest, she felt the stabbing sensation of fear. It happened so quickly. She suddenly saw the dragon quickly approach her, its jaws open, its wings sprawled out, and its voice booming into her ears. She dropped her arrow on accident, and ran, not thinking twice about going after it. Getting away was her top priority at this point.

While she was small and managed to move around the groves trees with ease, the dragon pushed through violently. She knew this because she heard the crashing of lumber and brush behind her, and the yell of the dragon just as close as it was before despite her attempt at escape.

The breaking of the grove gave her legs the room to sprint, taking her quickly away from the cluster of trees and towards the rocky terrain before her. However, she was unable to move any further, as suddenly the cliff-side she had just passed before now blocked her escape. The steep, misty plummet downward was her only alternative, so instead of acting a coward, she turned toward the stampeding dragon, who was nearing her closely now as it bashed apart the forest, and made its way to the cliff beside her.

The Skrill's mouth filled with electricity, and behind the sparking light its eyes focused on her so sternly that Kelda felt that this could be it. Her inability to take her kill would be the ultimate end to her life. _Perhaps it was better this way…_ Kelda thought to herself.

The Skrill stopped directly in front of her. So close, that the electricity in its mouth made her skin hurt; it felt like a thousand small needles were penetrating her skin—like millions of ants were biting at her arms and face.

Without blinking, Kelda looked into the Skrill's eyes. The dragon had every right to kill her; she was not only a fool but also a monster. By killing her it would stop this nonsense she constantly struggled through. Satisfying the guild, clawing her way through life and attempting to reach a state of fame and honor that Ulf wanted of her, but yet she could never reach, was all futile. Her thoughts didn't matter, and her feelings shouldn't even exist. The life of a hunter was cruel, demanding, and all consuming, and it was something, despite her efforts and progress, she couldn't tolerate anymore.

But the slaughter never happened. The energy within the dragon's jaws dissipated, softly like the twinkling of the last sunset, and its teeth shut, meeting Kelda solely with its gaze.

The standoff wasn't long by any means, but it felt like an eternity. For that brief moment, Kelda couldn't feel the wind or hear the whispers of the forest leaves. She could only feel the electrical power emanating from the dragon—a power that could so easily be used to destroy her. And yet? It was sparing her life.

The wings of the Skrill swept back and then forward, sending a gust towards Kelda that made her have to harden her stance to keep herself from falling backwards. It lifted into the sky, letting off a static screech, and with a few more pounds of its wings, the dragon flew off back over the forest, and towards the mountain peaks beyond.

. . . . . . .

There was no telling how much time had passed between then and now. The clouds in the sky were so dense that there was no point trying to read the sun's position in the sky. Kelda had found herself lying against a tree on the edge of the forest, looking out towards the field where the edge of the cliff met the grassy terrain towards the left, and the mountains continued onward with a flat, rocky slope on the right.

From looking at Kelda as a spectator one might assume she was in a state of shock—dissociation perhaps. But this was not the case at all. Her blank, serious face was like a wall, hiding and holding so many thoughts that anyone else could perhaps have gone mad by the sheer number of them.

_Why couldn't I do it? Why was I so careless? That Skrill could've easily killed me. Why didn't it? How will I collect the bounty to help my guild? What will Ulf think? What will Grimmel think?_

If she could shut off her brain she would. The only thing she could do was let her thoughts run their course in this moment of rest. The first day of her hunt wasn't even over yet, so there was certainly still time to spare. Once she managed to get a hold of herself she would need to figure out what her next steps were going to be.

Kelda had been sitting there for so quiet, and for so long, that the sudden _click clonk_ of a heard of deer's hooves against the grass and dirt merged from out of the forest around her, and into the open field. This was the only thing that managed to break the spell she was under. The animals stuck together as they ventured out into the pasture, some keeping their eyes open and alert while others began to feed on the green grasses surrounding them.

As they traded positions of keeping watch and eating, Kelda felt her stomach turn. Running around the woods all day, especially running around for your life, was an exhausting task. And to top it all off, the last thing she remembered eating was the loaf of bread on the boat that had brought her here. Connecting the dots, she figured she'd take one of the deer and prepare a fire to feed herself. Maybe after filling up she could think straight.

Kelda had lost an arrow during the Skrill stampede but she carried many more with her. Slowly, she reached behind her to take a new arrow, when before she could even lift her arm all the way up and over, she heard it again: the sounds of flight of the Skrill.

Sitting up ever so slightly to get a better look, her eyes darted from the deer in front of her and to the skies. The deer had heard it too, but after the initial pound, it got quiet again. Kelda felt her anticipation rising as the deer seemed to continue on with what they were doing. Peace continued only an instant longer, when the Skrill appeared suddenly.

It swooped down from over the canopy of trees behind her so fast that it looked like a blur of blacks and violets. The deer were stunned by the presence of the dragon and all began to run, but the dragon had made a quick turn, and its mouth began to light up with a multitude of colors that would soon begin to spread around its entire body. Charging up its attack only took a few seconds: it released a thick thunderbolt towards the heard, striking the ground around them, and blowing up the dirt and grass, which caught and cast two deer with it.

"You know what, I don't think I'm actually that hungry," Kelda mused softly, her mouth remaining agape after her statement. Sure sometimes Vikings seared their meat to a decent crispy burn on the outside, but this… well, this wasn't very pretty _at all_.

The dragon had quickly landed in front of the completely decimated deer carcasses and began to devour one. Watching this didn't quite faze Kelda as much as she thought it could have. She had come across a few folks you could argue ate their food exactly like this: burnt on the outside, raw on the inside, and ate it whole.

 _You little savage you,_ Kelda thought. However, at this time the dragon had completely swallowed the deer, and had looked up towards her direction. Her eyes widened as she realized it was staring at her. She had been sitting so quiet, and yet it could see her? Or yet, had it known she was there the _entire time_?

Without any more confrontation, the dragon grabbed the other little dead deer in its jaws, raised its wings, and lifted off into the sky. Kelda watched it until it disappeared back into the forest behind her, hearing the last of its flight muffle into the misty mountains.

. . . . . . .

A large circle upon the face of the trunk of the massive pine had been carved, in its center an elaborate dot about three inches in diameter across. Kelda had backed away from the tree she had been leaning against for so long and ventured a few yards out into the open field. She was getting curious, maybe a bit too dangerously curious for any other Viking—after all, the Skrill had just been here, and had known of her presence, and if a smart hunter knew anything, it was to keep hiding, and to keep quiet. But Kelda had to test this… she wanted to be sure the Skrill wasn't watching her, so she made herself more open.

By drawing her bow, she aimed at the dot in the center of the trunk. Exhaling softly, her muscles relaxed, and she released her arrow. It was a flawless strike, and hit the upper corner of the dot.

Kelda looked around her: nothing. Again she drew another arrow, sending it off slightly to the opposite corner of the dot, parallel to the other arrow that had landed seconds earlier.

There was still silence.

She felt herself sigh, not necessarily in an act of relaxation, but of disappointment.

"You're probably taking a nap after that meal," Kelda muttered out loud, reaching her arm over her shoulder to grab another arrow. She still didn't feel too hungry—being keyed up does that to a person.

Kelda was preparing the third arrow when a sudden _swoosh_ sound eclipsed her thoughts. It happened so quickly, but she managed to catch the Skrill approach from the cliff side mist. It had landed so close to her; its wings sent a spray of misty air in her direction, again, nearly knocking her over. The dragon looked at her weapon, and then to the carved tree that held the two arrows. Its eyes narrowed, and it briefly turned its head back to Kelda, scanning her expression before locking eyes with the huntress.

Kelda felt a pit grow in her stomach as it began charging up its electricity in its mouth again. The feeling of needles pierced every pore of her face as her eyes blinked rapidly.

 _Oh boy, this is it_ , Kelda thought.

To her surprise, however, at the last possible moment, and as the charge filled to its maximum, the Skrill turned its head back to the tree, sending its thunderbolt at the target she had carved. As the lightning consumed the tree in a quick flash, Kelda watched as the brown wood and bark became consumed in light and fire, decimating the arrows stuck in it like magma melting stone. The lightning flowed up the trees branches high above until the powerful stream ended in a sudden explosion, sending debris and embers about like it had thrown the dirt and rock before. It had only taken seconds, milliseconds to be more specific, to consume the entirety of the massive evergreen.

Kelda stared, her mouth agape yet again as she contemplated the power of the dragon. Her arrows were mere flicks of one's fingers compared to its mighty thunderbolts; drips of raindrops compared to its storm.

"You're just showing off, aren't you?" Kelda commented, but as soon as her words left her mouth, the dragon pumped its massive wings again to lift it into the skies, this time, sending her falling to her side.

As it climbed higher away from her, it unleashed a powerful roar. With it, the dense clouds above her became filled with thunder, rumbling the earth beneath her as the building dark clouds began to drop rain upon her, and the land around her.

All that power…and yet it was not used to harm her.

. . . . . . .

There was once a time Kelda felt as if what she did brought her honor; it was the kind of honor bestowed to one for an accomplishment—a benefit to society. And yet, even as a young girl something always felt wrong with what the world of hunters valued. If bringing honor meant to kill and destroy, what was left? At the time of her youth, she didn't really know. All she could do was hang onto what she could, and what she was told. The life of a hunter was ingrained into her for as long as she could remember, all the way up until this point. Knowledge of the hunt, of weaponry, of the land and sea; it was all hers. Like a ship upon a vast ocean, Kelda could venture towards nothing else. Thinking about what would happen—what was beyond everything she ever knew—scared her.

In her dreams she often saw Ulf and her guild. On this night, she remembered when she fashioned her first bow and arrow, a weapon she chose for its elegance, but mostly because of its means of reaching far distances, and tactic for overseeing the battle. Most members of her guild chose to wield swords, mostly great swords and axes, with these choices carrying with them the means to intimidate and pulverize their enemies. But, like Kelda contemplated the world around her, and watched nature in her hunts, the bow and arrow seemed suiting to her. An archer had to remain behind to watch her pack, and to soak in the wildness of the world before her, sending out her shot only after careful consideration and timing.

However, this ability to seem confined and collected, felt like a facade. As straight and true as she could send her arrow immediately reflected an opposite side of her that she so desperately continued to hide. Desperation to fit in; to make _them_ proud. If one could look into her mind, and see the storm stirring within her…well, she didn't really want to think about what could happen.

Kelda was in a light sleep, her dreams barely diving below the surface before she found herself slowly waking up. The light of the fire she had built before going under was still lit, and the soft orange flames could be felt on her face first as she awoke. However, as she regained consciousness, another sensation seemed to collect upon her face and eyelids. It was prickles and needles, the feeling of a storm hovering above her.

Kelda's eyes shot open as a rush of adrenaline pushed her from what remaining slumber encased her. The dragon's eyes starred into her own, carrying with them a sense of surprise, but also an overwhelming sense of curiosity. Up this close Kelda could see all the fine details of the Skrill; very occasionally, a sporadic and tiny series of electrical currents crossed the Skrill's muzzle and teeth as it sniffed, soon intensifying until the Skrill let loose another loud and antagonizing screeching roar right into Kelda's face.

A high pitched buzz overcame the huntress hearing, and the painful needle-like prickles on her skin intensified. Inside she began to feel all her thoughts and feelings surface, as if the pain was like fire commanding a pot full of water to boil.

_She screamed back._

Not sure why she began, Kelda found that she couldn't stop. Even with a mouthful of sharp white teeth, and jaws large enough to consume her entire upper body standing inches from her face, her screams continued for as long as the Skrill's did. Her ears were still ringing even after the yelling stopped, and the Skrill backed two paces away before continuing to stare at her, a slight sneer and gnashing of its teeth overcoming its expression in those moments of the stare-off.

Like an airy wave, sound returned to her sense of hearing before she took the opportunity to sit up. This mere gesture caused the Skrill to take another step back, so Kelda opted to remain seated. Her head cocked to the side, and the Skrill followed suit, imitating her movements.

"You remember me, don't you?" Kelda asked out loud. This time, the Skrill didn't fly away. It remained standing where it was, only the fire pit’s orange flames flickering in the early morning dark of the second day.

Kelda kept calm and situated as she said, "You can't even understand me, obviously." Her eyes shifted around the forest canopy above her; it was so dark that the inky black sky through the trees leaves seemed infinite. The clouds had remained heavy through the night.

Exhaling a long huff-like sigh, the Skrill's nostrils flared. This triggered a small series of tiny electrical flickers to dart along its jaws again.

Slowly, Kelda began to sit up until she came to a stand. When she finally was up on both feet, the Skrill wings spread outward, making itself look larger—even the spines on its body seemed to expand.

Kelda ignored the dragon then, or at least pretended she was ignoring it. She began walking to her left, but as she did so, the dragon paced slowly with her. At the corner of her eye she saw the Skrill was intent on watching where she was going. For the most part Kelda herself wasn't even thinking about where she was going, but instead was using this opportunity to test the creature, seeing how it reacted with her decisions and movements.

This went along for some time—Kelda would walk as far off as she could to her left before the light of the fire became too dim, and then she would walk as far as she could to the right, repeating this until a dusky dawn began to filter into the forest. Once she was able to see without aid of the fire, Kelda ventured deeper into the woods. The Skrill slithered through the large trunks of the pines, disappearing for only moments behind the massive trees before reappearing on the other side, still keeping up parallel to the huntress. Before long, the solid ground at her boots grew soft as she approached a gentle flowing river. She didn't stand there for long before she made the decision to kneel down beside the flowing waters, and place her hands underneath its surface, letting the cool, and clear liquid flow through her fingers before she cupped her hand together, clasping a bundle of the water, before she brought it to her face to drink.

Again, a growl escaped the Skrill's throat.

Not turning hear head, the huntress gave the dragon a side stare to make sure it wasn't up to anything. When all seemed clear for the moment, Kelda returned her hands into the river for another scoop, but instead of brining the water to her lips, she shifted her body to the Skrill, attempting to show the water in her hands.

It looked at her inquisitively, but got taken by surprise when Kelda threw the water onto her face.

"I freed you from the water; the trap… do you… do you actually realize that?" Kelda asked then, her words coming out slowly, as if the statement was incomprehensible to even her own logic. The remaining droplets of water rolled off her cheeks as she attempted to wait for a response—any response.

The Skrill took a step back, opening its large wingspan, and once again, carried itself into the sky. It managed to flawlessly maneuver through an opening in the tree lines above to disappear into the cloudy, new morning.

. . . . . . .

A few hours had passed when Kelda had brought her weapon along with her to the riverside. Tying a rope to the end of one of her arrows, she was making great progress catching a couple midsize fish, two of them impaled on one of her other arrows and sticking up from the ground. She had just let go of her third arrow, striking a third fish on the end, when she could hear the Skrill making another round in her direction. It hadn't left her that morning exactly, but more likely it had taken its distance. Throughout her trip to her camp and back again with her bow, she had felt and listened for it since dawn. Skrill dragons are fairly silent when they fly, but what seemed to give them away, she found, was the feeling of electricity in the air when they got near. The moment her cheeks flushed with that feeling, she managed to look towards the sky and catch a glimpse of its shadow beyond the reaches of the treetops.

The fish continued to jiggle and flap at the end of her third arrow when the Skrill dragon finally dived beneath the tree line, landing on the other side of the river in front of Kelda. It watched the fish move on the end of her arrow for a moment, before it decided to fly off again back out of the same hole in the canopy above.

At this point Kelda considered three fish of this size to be enough of a meal to satisfy her for the remainder of the morning. Taking a trip back to the campfire and cooking them up would be fairly quick and easy. Her stomach growled this time just thinking about it—fish seemed like a more appetizing meal this time around, and with a stomach as empty as hers, nothing in the world would taste better.

The third fish would finally stop moving when a large _whoosh_ sound erupted in the skies as the dragon returned. This time, its quick flying would not come to a halt on the ground, but purposefully continued to fly above it, and along the river. Its jaws again filled with lighting, and the second it crossed paths with Kelda, it sent another thunderbolt outward and into the river.

The river exploded, Kelda taking cover as quickly as she could to escape the impact of the attack. If she had been standing in the water she would have probably been killed, or at least her heart would have stopped briefly. Thinking about it made her hunger turn to queasiness.

"What the hell?!" Kelda yelled. She looked towards the other two fish that had been sticking up out of the ground; luckily they were still there. Before Kelda could allow herself to yell something else, she looked over at the river. Fish were starting to rise to the surface, dead, and slightly steaming, when the Skrill had quickly come back around, its mouth wide open, and started skidding the top of the water to gather the electrocuted fish into its mouth. Once it had at least ten or eleven fish in its jaws, it clamped its mouth shut and took off back through the canopy opening.

"Oh my Thor, you are an absolute show off!" Kelda stomped her foot on the ground. This dragon was insane. First it blew up the deer, then the tree, now the river? What was it trying to do?

. . . . . . .

High up on the side of the mountains, where one could look out towards the edge of the white and grey stones, the vastness of the ocean became apparent and demanded Kelda's attention. The huntress had made great progress throughout that day, venturing through the nearby forest to finally arrive at another point of clearing. Elevated by the mountain, and further away from the village she had left merely two days ago, Kelda was finally giving herself a chance to stand still.

All this progress, and yet, she did not think of her initial reason for being here. For once she forgot her quest to kill the dragon for her guild, and found herself lost in a new task of understanding it. Instead of thinking about the dragon’s actions in anger, Kelda contemplated further why the dragon continued to reveal its power to her.

"It shows me its power but does not harm me." Leaning up against a large stone, Kelda took a moment to stare at the ocean below and beyond her as she contemplated. The clouds had not gave way; as a matter of fact, it seemed like the further up the mountain she climbed, the thicker they became. In this way, with the clouds dark as ominous as they were, the ocean reflected it like a mirror. Looking out towards the horizon, one might assume that the ocean and the sea were one and the same. Interesting how two vastly different forces could mimic one another, both in its portrayal and in its demonstrated ferocity.

But comparing sky and sea was foolish—for any seasoned Viking, or hunter, knew each carried with them its own beauties, and dangers.


	4. The Pale Hunter

A hunter in his prime, whose name had become synonymous with gruesomeness and terror, did not reach his status by mere luck. Perhaps the only lucky moment in his life was simply the fact that a Night Fury had lay asleep in the moment he was able to take its life. After that, being heralded as a hero came natural, for when given the chance to do something one time, doing it again would be easier.

Grimmel knew how harsh the life of a hunter could be, and would always be. As a young boy, he was regarded as skinny and frail. It had gotten to the point where it was ingrained in his head that he had no future… no hope—that if you did not meet the mold of society, hatred for oneself was not a random occurrence, but a given. You either were strong or you were a dead man walking. His own parents even, in their utterances, and secrets towards their son, would rather discard him before he were to suffer a gruesome death later on. For whom such as a boy of his stature and nature, of physical weakness and slowness to fight—of mind over brawn—could ever hope to survive the life of a Viking?

But his parents and his village… soon all of hunter kind would know how _wrong_ they were. A poor young boy of thirteen years didn't have a chance at slaying a dragon. But he defied the odds. They all were gravely mistaken.

He had killed a Night Fury.

One dragon after another, like spikes embedded into a stone wall, each kill lifted him higher and regarded him with honor among hunters. _Grimmel the Grisly_ , they called him, for even shadows did not cast a shade darker than he did when he made his kills.

Everyone in comparison? Mere specs compared to his abilities and prodigy, who could not hope to reach the status he achieved by now of thirty-years of age. And most of all, this was all accomplished by _himself_. Grimmel had slaughtered so many Night Fury's that it had been years since he had last seen one. Sometimes a thought occurred to him that he had already met his goal: after all, he had spent the last decade hunting the creatures nonstop. Nonetheless, whether or not this was a true sentiment was beyond him at this point. If another showed itself, hinted at its existence even, he'd kill it. In the meanwhile, he was building himself up further… to kill all of one species was quite a goal, but to kill at least one of every species, now that was another. Each dragon had their own wits about them, their own strengths and weaknesses. If he learned to harness that kind of knowledge, all of dragon kind would stand no chance. A good hunter knew that there was always something new to learn, another step to take… his mind was a half-empty book, ready to be filled.

Grimmel sat outside the Viking hall, his eyes fixated on the dense accumulating clouds that seemed to grow stronger by the day. Rain had recently again poured over the village, drenching the grasses with water, and dampening the soil until it became mud. Inside the hall, a large mass of voices stirred and occasionally boomed, erupting into laughter in segments. The members of this particular village were settling down to a large feast.

The smell of seared meat and ale we're filling Grimmel's nostrils when the ocean breeze swept across his body, momentarily disrupting the smells of food and drink and replacing it with the salty, damp sea air.

 _I wonder how far along she is_ , Grimmel thought to himself. It had been almost five days now, and ever since the huntress had left, he couldn't help but contemplate her behavior. The first time he laid eyes on her he was treading the coast, his crossbow armed and at hand, and his intentions initially to track down the Skrill dragon that remained on the island.

Now Grimmel was known particularly for his means of killing Night Fury, but the business of killing a Skrill dragon was yet another task he ached to accomplish. There were so many dragon species in the world that no known hunter had killed one of each kind. If Grimmel was going to remain one of the most powerful hunters in the world, knowing his enemy was key. He did not doubt his skill, though. A Skrill was a species he had yet to come across up until recently, but it was one he knew coming here, regardless, that he could handle quite easily.

But he did not expect there to be a challenger…

Kelda had found the Skrill he had trapped first. Even with drips of saltwater falling onto his brow, he still managed to watch _her_ walk from the beach and up to the Skrill encased by the rolling waves of the ocean, and the trap he had managed to latch onto the creature. At first, he highly expected the woman to take his kill. If she had, maybe he would have killed her on the spot. There was nothing more sinister to hunter-kind than taking ones rightful prey…

But instead, he hesitated. What caused him to hesitate was merely her body language, and how she carried herself then. While he couldn't really see her facial expressions from the distance, he had a feeling she wasn't going to make the kill. Not now, anyway.

"Know your place," he had said under his breath. Grimmel need not to worry about being heard, for the sound of the crashing waves concealed his voice.

Watching Kelda, he then saw her dismiss her weapon, and begin approaching the Skrill. This caught his interest. What followed, even, was a bit amusing. The huntress had actually _freed_ the dragon.

As it flew away, any other hunter would have been furious. But Grimmel, he needed to meet this hunter. How easy it would have been for her to decide to just take the kill. The cost of releasing the dragon was dangerous, as he had witnessed her upper shoulder being slashed, and her form then consumed by the waves, albeit only momentarily.

For once, he sensed something more interesting; he sensed a different kind of challenge.

And yet, he wanted to test her. Giving her a week to hunt the Skrill ahead of him would have been a death sentence to his bounty; if Kelda was as skilled as she was determined, the next time he'd see her would be with her exchanging the beast's carcass for coin.

If she came back empty handed or came back successful, it didn't matter. In a way, he wanted to see that other hunters were striving for the same cause as he did: to extinguish all dragons.

As he stood there in his present state, the view of the ocean before him, and the clouds quickening, he felt a sort of yearning grow within him. Being a hunter had its many perks, and as much as he enjoyed playing the game of the hunt, and the final act of killing his prey, he often did so alone. For a moment or two, he'd continue to think about Kelda, then. He couldn't wait to see what had transpired throughout the week he had given her, and although there were only two full days remaining for her to meet her end of the wager, it seemed like an eternity.

But Grimmel was a patient man. His patience owed him his career, just as his skill in the trade did. Seeing her come back soon would signify a new type of game he so craved: a game of chances, and yet a game of power. If she failed, it would justify his prowess over her. He'd take over the hunt, and finish it all off himself. If she came back successful, well, that was a different story.

"Hey, hunter!" A voice yelled from behind him. It was a villager, behind him a trio of voluptuous women. "Why are you out here being a stiff? Come and join the celebration!"

Grimmel grimaced, and said, "There's no time to celebrate, yet." This village had called upon hunters to take care of their dragon problem. Until that was accomplished, Grimmel saw no reason for celebration.

"You monster hunters are a whole different lot, aren't you?" The man stated. The women chuckled behind him, one clinging to his arm. "If you change your mind there is enough ale to drunk a whale!"

"I'm _sure_ …" Gimmel rolled his eyes as the group turned to go into the Viking hall. He couldn't stand men as pretentious as that one. People liked to flaunt themselves, especially the muscular ones. As if their physical strength alone was the key to their means to flourish through life. Grit is not something you are born with, but something that you create within yourself, and skill certainly is not something you showed off by your mere person, but something you demonstrated, and built upon your reputation.

After all, if a child could slay a monster with wit and determination alone, was there anything more powerful?


	5. Trust

_Six days._

Six days had passed, and Kelda found herself immersed in the wildness of the mountainside. She and the dragon had continued to watch each other, and test boundaries. Looking at the path from the village, and nearly halfway up the mountain, a wake of destruction had appeared in the trees, the valleys, and the rivers. Stones had been crushed down to pebbles, and puddles had been evaporated as the Skrill continued to show off its power to the huntress. A person could mistake the mountainside for a battlefield or heavy pursuit, but funny enough, the sound of Kelda's laughter echoed over the stones and cliffs.

"Try catching this one, you creep," Kelda muttered to herself amusingly. She had impaled a fish onto the end of her arrow, and prepared her bow as if she was going to make a shot. Instead, she aimed at nothing in particular: the sky was vast above her for there were no trees to block her view from the point she was standing upon now. Kelda made sure to pull her bowstring back a little further to compensate for the additional weight of the fish, and sent it flying through the air. Kelda watched as it briefly soared into the sky, becoming a dot among the clouds and mist, before electricity filled the skies and the Skrill dragon dived down and caught the edge of the arrow easily, and flawlessly, between its teeth. A simple crunch of its jaws allowed it to break the fish off the arrows tip, allowing the rest of the arrow to plummet to the earth in shambles.

Kelda had many more arrows, so it didn't matter that she lost another one. Seeing how fast the Skrill was able to fly and catch her baited arrows amused her, maybe a little too much. Her distant curiosity throughout the week had allowed her to understand the Skrill. As aggressive as it was, examples of this being seen in the decimation of the land around and behind her, the dragon had actually revealed its intelligence to her directly though their attempts at communication. The deer, the river, and many more incidents between almost a week ago and until now had revealed something to Kelda: dragons remember.

While the dragon couldn't say so itself, Kelda knew that it remembered her saving it from the hunter trap. After all, it surely would have killed her by now. There were many chances in Kelda's moments of weakness that the dragon could have snuck up on her, and yet here she was, alive and well… _laughing_ even?

Kelda couldn't remember the last time she laughed, at least not in a way that was genuine. The hunter's tribe was extremely sensitive to anomalies in culture, and in presentation. One was raised to keep emotions to oneself, unless it fit in with the desires of everyone else. Celebrations of capture or slaughter of dragons within the hunters port was typical; drinks would usually be passed around within a particular guild if there was a successful hunt, and more often than not, Kelda found herself plastering a fake smile on her face, and quickly putting away her true emotions. She had participated in so many of these 'celebrations' that the taste of ale actually began to sicken her. But it was a modest price to pay for the alternative.

Kelda at times had spoken and acted out of line, more often than not when she was very young. In the distant past, but seemingly not to long ago, Kelda remembered vividly the pain she felt on the side of her cheek when Ulf struck her. His armored palm clashed with her sensitive cheeks like a hot knife cutting through lard, and for the longest time she had a scar on the left side of her face that had slowly faded over the decade.

Striking her was a way to teach her respect, and when Chieftain Grimborn was present, it was absolutely necessary.

"What kind of nonsense is this?" Grimborn would spit out with anger. Behind him, his wife stood just as defensively as her husband, in her arms one of their two tiny sons, Viggo, and the elder son, Ryker, clutching his mother's long skirted armor.

After striking Kelda, Ulf kneeled respectively to his Chieftain. "She is only a girl, she will learn," he'd plead.

"Learn sooner than later, I hope." Grimborn had sneered. "When we accept members into our ranks, we must all realize that dragons are vile monsters prowling our world." He looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of his two boys, who continued to stare at the confrontation in discomfort, even if they may have been far to young to know the complexity of what was happening. "Viggo and Ryker definitely don't need to hear about means to _sympathize_ with dragons. Dragons do not deserve our sympathy! They are our enemies!"

While he was talking, he wasn't lecturing Ulf. His eyes were glued to Kelda, who remained on the ground, clutching the side of her face that had been struck. While she was not actively crying, tears still weld up in her eyes from the pain. Her face was red, as a mixture of rage and despair overcame her senses, but in the presence of the Grimborn family she held it all back, as best as she could, at least. She had already spoken out of term—she had already asked questions that came out more as an act of defiance than curiosity, and it had cost her. If she continued, she didn't know what would become of her. They could cast her out of the hunter's tribe, for all she knew, and what then?

"I'm sorry…" Kelda gasped.

"Take your orphan and get out of my sight!" Grimborn finally turned his attention to Ulf, taking his next phase of rage out on him. The Chieftain looked as if he might reach for his sword at any second.

Ulf didn't say a word. He bowed his head one last time, rose to his feet, and then turned around to clutch Kelda's small arm in his massive hand. The pressure he put on her limb caused her to gasp again, but she dared not cry.

It wasn't until they arrived back at their guilds living quarters did he throw her back onto the ground. Around them, other members of the guild looked up from their relaxed and stationary positions to pay attention to the confrontation.

"Do you realize what could have happened?!" Ulf had yelled. "In front of the Chief on top of it all!?"

"I just wanted to know why…" Kelda's voice was soft in comparison to his, although speaking calmly like this came with great effort. "Why we do what we do? Why do we _have_ to kill dragons?"

Ulf met Kelda's defiance with a different kind of answer—a personal one. He was so angry and violent in his stance, that young Kelda had felt that her heart may just as well spill from her ribcage like liquid mud falling through fingers. "Do you need reminding of what happened to your parents?" Ulf seethed as he spoke. "The snow was so dense in that village, and all the homes and halls had been decimated by that Night Fury… that poor northern tribe called upon my guild to aid them in their time of need when even your mother and father could not help themselves!"

Kelda was quiet. She never knew her parents. She must've been only three years old when they had died trying to find the Night Fury that had attacked their village. Ulf had brought up her past before during a similar moment as this when she questioned the guild and its ways; by telling her about how a dragon was responsible for killing her parents, Ulf figured it was a good enough reason to drive the desire to hurt them back into Kelda's consciousness.

Despite the many times she had heard this story, Kelda sill couldn't wrap her head around it. Sometimes she wouldn't have anything to say, and sometimes she felt compelled to respond with another question. This was one of those times.

"Why would the dragon be attacking them in the first place?" Kelda asked. "What if something was wrong? You weren't even there when it initially happened."

Ulf's arm rose, as if to hit her again, but he hesitated, then responded bitterly, "When I saw you there, just a babe without a means of care, and a village without warmth and food, I could have easily decided to leave you there. After I managed to rid the northern village of other dragons that had aided in that raid, I took you with me. I had stayed there weeks to try and find the Night Fury, but it was time we headed back. That village was as good as dead if they couldn't handle it themselves." Ulf took in a gigantic sigh after he said this, lowering his arm. "Kelda, I don't know how to else to tell you, but if you are not strong—if you so much as _hesitate_ to ever kill a dragon, you will be just like them! Helpless and weak!"

Those kinds of questions, the ones of defiance, for over ten years, have never been uttered since. Not in any other form or action, Kelda buried her confusion deep within herself, and did as she was told. Ulf may not have seen her parents die, but Kelda tried to justify that he was right about the dragons, regardless.

_It was amazing how different she felt at this moment: the present._

Kelda had ventured out behind a stone, and was preparing another fish on the end of her arrow when the Skrill appeared in the sky once again, unprompted, and landed a few yards in front of her. Kelda _hesitated_ , the dead fish in one hand, and her bow and arrow in another, and stood deathly still.

For a while, the two stood staring at each other in silence, neither attemping to move if the other didn't, so in a way they had become a rock and a hard place, of some sorts. It wasn't until the sky rumbled with thunder and a small droplet of rain hit Kelda's nose did she blink, her lips parting to prepare herself to ask another question…

"I can't say for sure I know why you spared my life," Kelda started calmly, "but I am still here, and yet you still do not harm me." Ironically, her eyes scanned the world around her, taking note of destroyed stone and earth. She took in a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, the smell of grass before a storm overcoming her senses. "Why do you show me your strength?"

The Skrill didn't understand her language, but it did understand her feelings. Before, when the dragon first met her, it was hard to read Kelda. She had masked her feelings so well, but the dragon sensed them now, like thunder in the clouds.

The Skrill continued to listen.

"Truth is, I was sent here to kill you…" Kelda surrendered her knowledge fully, but the dragon did not stir. It's irises were receded into a cat-like slits, obviously filled with caution, but there was no indication of hostility. How was it that the dragon hunters, her guild, Ulf even, had harmed her for messing up, but this dragon didn't even bat an eye at her failures? Ulf had claimed dragons hurt people, but _he_ had been the one to hurt her, when here and now, this dragon didn't.

Kelda felt herself beginning to grow angry. How her people had treated her—it was unfair. It was cruel.

"I had a week to do it, too… but I couldn't. I _won't_ kill you." Kelda looked down at the dead fish she had been holding in her hands, and squeezed it ever so slightly, feeling the prickly fins against her palm. In her eyes, those same tears began to accumulate—the ones of frustration, guilt, and helplessness she had felt that day she was dishonored in front of Grimborn and struck by Ulf. It was all coming back now. _"What am I going to do?"_ Kelda said softly, despair filling her voice.

What happened next surprised Kelda. Thousands of dreams couldn't have mimicked what began to unfold in front of her: _the dragon actually began to approach her._

Her mind jumped from one conclusion to another. At first she thought it was the fish in her hand that drew the dragon near, but when she saw the Skrill's eyes glued to her own, she shivered. Not knowing if it was coming to act on defense of her confession, or something else, Kelda stood still.

Thunder erupted in the clouds once again.

So close, Kelda felt the Skrill's electrical field again, but this time, it did not cause pain. Yes, it was there, in the air around her, but the intensity was dulled. Closing her eyes briefly, Kelda sighed to show she was not a threat. The dragon did the same, mimicking her actions to every perfection. Next, she held out her hand that cradled the fish, for one moment thinking she was to give it to the dragon as a peace offering of sorts. But, as the dragon broke from its hesitation, it nudged the fish from Kelda's grip, forcing her to softly let it go, and then placed the end of its nose to caress her palm instead.

Opening her eyes, Kelda could not believe the sight she beheld. Against her outstretched hand, like an extension of herself, the dragon allowed her to touch it's nose. So much potential…so much power…and yet it approached her like an old friend. They barely had begun to know each other, but against all odds, she felt like she could tell this creature anything, for it had listened without judgment and wrath.

"Valkyrie…" Kelda whispered. Her eyes opened. It was a suiting name for this creature. It could have the control if it wanted to. It could decide who lived or died—it demonstrated that already. "That is what I'll call you."

The dragon removed its nose from her palm, taking a single step back, giving enough space between itself and the huntress for it to move to the side. It continued to be mild, but in its eyes carried a sense of acceptance as it lowered its head.

At first Kelda didn't understand what this meant, but the longer she pondered, the more quickly she realized it was allowing her on its back. Was this even possible? Had a human ever ridden on the back of a dragon that allowed this at its own free will?

Kelda hesitated, slowly putting her bow and arrow back behind her back. Fingers were stretched out toward the Skrill, modestly, slowly, honorably, like giving glory to a warrior after battle. One foot after another stepped onto the grassy earth, her feet becoming obstructed by the tall grasses that continued to sway beneath her. Slowly but surely, she climbed onto the dragons back, soon finding herself being lifted from the only world she had known, and into the rain clouds.

. . . . . . .

Funny how small the world of man is in comparison to what is beyond it. Likewise, how vain it is for man to assume that their way of life is all that matters.

Like a veil had been lifted before her, Kelda was enthralled by the view of her world from the sky. Through the rainclouds and storms, the rocky island below felt so insignificant. Even the ocean, as vast and deep as it was, felt so far out of reach. Nothing could touch her when she elevated beyond the reaches of land and sea.

Even after departing the clouds and arriving back down to earth, her bliss stayed with her, and for just a few moments she felt as if she could be hopeful again.

The Skrill, however, had taken Kelda somewhere new. Here, a large edge was perched in the crevices of the steep mountains, below them their hiding place shielded by the mist that had grown far more dense along with the increased height of the mountain's isle. Around them many twigs, leaves, and stones cradled them, this accumulation of material growing more prominent in the back center, up against a large white boulder.

There was a glow buried beneath more tree leaves and sticks.

Kelda dismounted the dragon, absorbing the new setting. She shifted in her stance, nervously when she noticed the soft, violet glow under the shrubs.

"Why have you brought me here?" she asked.

The dragon began to softly walk over to the glow, being careful and tender with its footsteps despite its large size. As it began to wipe off the leaves from the glowing objects, Kelda felt her heart flutter. Her amazement intensified when the treasure began to fully reveal itself. In all her years, Kelda had not seen something like this… Hunters were far too busy watching and making the kill than allowing themselves to be revealed something anew—something not yet born.

Before her, were two glowing Skrill eggs.

To describe them would be to describe something otherworldly. Other than their soft violet glow, around them electricity jumped from one side of the shell to another. Even standing back, you could feel a mixture of both hot and cold emerging from it, like the air around the eggs were breathing in, and out, giving off energy and then retracting it back again as waves. It was as if the physical manifestation of the potentiality of things, of all life, was here gently slumbering in the presence of something so simple yet so complicated.

Kelda spoke gently, only loud enough for her voice to reach the edge of the cliff, and whispered to the dragon, "You're a mother."

While Valkyrie may not have known the language of humans, it seemed to understand what Kelda meant when she said 'mother'. Indeed, this dragon had more to protect than herself, and that was obvious to Kelda now that she was standing among her nest. Why else would a dragon bring someone, a hunter even, to the place she was most vulnerable? However, something else suddenly came across Kelda's mind as she pondered.

"Where is the father?" she asked.

Valkyrie, whose eyes had been stationary on Kelda, shifted away from her, and glanced at her eggs. The dilation of her pupils from round human-like eyes to slits of a cat became a revelation to Kelda that made her heart sink at first, but then erupt into a soft, bubbling anger. Kelda did not have to say anything out loud to reflect what she now understood: _the father had been killed._

A flood of memories seemed to pass before her eyes as her hatred slipped from the depths of her mind. Every dragon that she had killed in her life to satisfy the desires of the hunters' seemed to manifest on a metaphysical wall of death filled with trophies that couldn't be counted. Even if she was just a child, she was horrified that this had been allowed to happen. Each dragon—a face that once shared love, a family, had felt the sun and wind on its face, and beheld the most monumental of truths—all perished.

_For what? For the coin? Simply the desire to kill? All because they were different?_

Kelda wished she could reach into the past and tell herself that being afraid of the unknown was okay. That dragons may have been a mystery to the Vikings, maybe had even had a terrible history with them, but there was just so much they didn't know that would change their minds. That the world didn't belong to just people, but to every living, breathing, feeling creature in the world. That being shepherds meant being so to all that crept and crawled, even dragons.

Kelda felt the weight of her body was suddenly too much to bear, and she collapsed onto her knees. It was like she was standing before Grimborn again, but instead of being in front of a Chief that didn't understand her, she was before a dragon—a dragon that knew what she was, and yet still allowed her here.

"I'm sorry!" Kelda gasped, her expression of guilt escaping her voice again, but this time much different. "I'm sorry that we've done this to your family. I'm sorry I was ever a part of it!"

As those words escaped her lips, widening her eyes, Kelda suddenly found a new thought cross her mind. Kelda remembered Grimmel's icy blue eyes before she turned away from him days ago, and with it, the deal they had made before she had left the village. If she didn't kill the Skrill, _he would_.

Kelda rose to her feet, her sudden position from kneeling and to standing startling Valkyrie, but only momentarily. "We need to get out of here!" Kelda said urgently, but again, her eyes fell upon the dragon. Even with her warning, the dragon remained where it stood, and for a good reason. Kelda found herself with a new problem, and then as she spoke aloud what she feared, said, "You can't leave your eggs, can you?"

Retreating back into her mind, Kelda allowed a wind of thoughts to blow over her but even among the whirlwind of her own mind, she managed to pick the best possible plan she could think of.

"If you can't transport your eggs alone, I'll help you." Kelda set one hand on her hips, and the other naturally started to rest on her chin. "I can probably get a large satchel or basket of some kind back at the village. After that, I can come back, and I'll fly wherever you want to go. You carry me; I'll carry your eggs."

Again, as she spoke aloud every solution, a new problem seemed to arise. Preparing herself with the supplies she needed to help transport the eggs somewhere off the island, and somewhere away and where hunters—and Grimmel—could never find them, was one thing. But _how_ was she going to do it? Six days had already passed… by tomorrow, her time would be up, and she'd have lost the deal. Grimmel would surely begin his hunt by then.

"There's no other choice." Kelda's voice was irritable. There was now so little time, and no other means to help the dragon leave, that the new mission Kelda had made for herself seemed like the only path forward. Maybe she couldn't stop Grimmel for eventually acting upon his plans, but she had to try.

"I'll head back down to the village immediately," Kelda explained aloud. "It will be close to nightfall by the time I get back, so maybe I'll be able to avoid him, get what I need, and come back." Yes, this was the best possible scenario, but what if he saw her? What if he asked questions?

But Kelda was not a coward. She did not endure her life among hunters without absorbing all their knowledge and skills. Even regarded as one of the most skilled in her guild, Kelda knew in her abilities. More importantly, she had her own wits about her. Now was the time to use them for her own means.

As she began to turn her back to prepare to venture off back into the world, the Skrill shuffled where it stood, and let out a soft purr-like growl. Kelda found herself stopping in her tracks, and turned back to look at the dragon. Valkyrie, and her once cat-like eyes, began to soften to a rounder shape as it nuzzled into the ground, parting the small twigs and leaves to grab a hold of something softly with its mouth. Kelda watched it patiently as it lifted its head back up and walked towards her, now holding something that seemed to disappear against its muzzle in a mixture of purples and greys. It wasn't until the dragon was face-to-face with Kelda, handing over the object as if it were handing her a gift, that she realized what it was.

Kelda held out her hand, and gently plucked the small object into her grasp, where she would immediately recognize it as one of the dragon's large scales. Mesmerized by its beauty, it could have easily been mistaken for a chip of precious stone. For just a mere moment longer she felt the weight of her new task draw off her shoulders like a soft hand moving trifles of hair off ones face.

Yes, it was a gift, but how precious a gift this was. This dragon scale was not stolen but was given to Kelda out of this dragon's free will. Kelda began to realize as much as she needed a friend without judgment, this dragon needed help for what was left of her family. Out of seemingly random circumstances, out of all the possibilities that life and the world could toss at them, they had managed to find each other at just the right time.


End file.
